Loving rock and roll requires engaging with a terrible reality, one that the music itself has not solved and sometimes helped its fans to forget.

I think the same could be applied to just about everything and any entertainment industry, but I’ve thought a lot about this over the years, and, of course, with the growing list of celebrities that are icking me out, even more so these days. Your childhood feels ruined, heroes come tumbling off of their pedestals, is anything safe? Was it ever?

I’ve known for a long time that plenty of my heroes are dirtbags. I think about all the times when I’ve been able to reconcile the artist and their art and the times when I haven’t been able to. I try to pick apart my pattern and even I can’t explain it. There’s been no definitive criteria. There’s no firm line for when some pop icon’s actions have been too much for me to be able to enjoy their art and when I’ve been able to shrug it off and somehow compartmentalize. I feel problematic. I feel guilty. I suppose that’s a good thing.